


Devout

by kidcarma



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Angels, Angel Wings, Angel!Kamukura, Bathing/Washing, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Human!Komaeda, M/M, Minor Religious Themes, Painplay, Public Sex, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcarma/pseuds/kidcarma
Summary: “Are you sure this is alright?” Komaeda asks, a tinge of hesitation lacing his words, though he’s already toeing off his shoes and shedding his clothes in spite of that, to follow Kamukura in. “This is a public park. Anyone could come wandering-““They won’t,” Kamukura says simply, his voice stretching across the water.His own modesty pales in comparison to the set of bloodied wings Kamukura is sporting. He’s sure if anyone were to spot them, his state of undress would be their last concern.
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	Devout

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is Definitely a bit different than the content i usually put out- i havent experimented too heavily with aus, so this is somewhat out of my comfort zone, but i did my best to give this one context within the story, so i hope you enjoy!  
> didnt intend to write this until last night when pals were discussing it in the groupchat and the writing bug bit me directly on the ass and i wrote this in about 3 hours. so u have them to thank for this

The stagnant water gives easy beneath the weight of Kamukura’s feet as he steps into the fountain, the newfound ripples distorting what little light there is to reflect- it’s nighttime, so the fountain is turned off naturally. No use wasting energy to run it when no one is around. Still, a few distant street lamps reach the threshold, occasionally flickering as Kamukura carries himself further into the fountain’s basin, red pooling behind him with every step. 

“Are you sure this is alright?” Komaeda asks, a tinge of hesitation lacing his words, though he’s already toeing off his shoes and shedding his clothes in spite of that, to follow Kamukura in. “This is a public park. Anyone could come wandering-“

“They won’t,” Kamukura says simply, his voice stretching across the water. 

And who is Komaeda to argue with that? 

“Haha, if you insist,” Komaeda chuckles, peeling and flinging away all of his clothes, save for his boxers. He may hold Kamukura’s word as absolute truth, but that doesn’t mean he’s not wary of his own bad luck.

Well. His own modesty pales in comparison to the set of bloodied wings Kamukura is sporting. He’s sure if anyone were to spot them, his state of undress would be their last concern. 

The splashes of his footfalls sound much too loud, at least next to Kamukura, who has managed to carry himself in without a sound. Be it his natural clumsiness, or the way his heart is beginning to race as the reality of the situation catches up with him.   
It was exhilarating, to watch Kamukura _take_ like that. Take life. A rush of blood, a blur of limbs, the sound of rustling feathers barely audible over cut off screams and the dead weight of bodies falling limply to the ground. He’s still shaking, Komaeda realizes as he looks down to his trembling hands, then back up to Kamukura, who is the epitome of composure despite the gore smeared across his cheeks. Too dark to really see it, and hidden by the thick curtain of his hair, but Komaeda _knows_ that it’s there regardless. 

The sharp tang of iron and chlorine fills his nose as he approaches Kamukura, who has taken to sitting down, cupping water in his hands and pouring it over himself, wings shifting similar to the way a bird might clean oneself. It’s not as effective though, that much becomes obvious after a few moments, when Kamukura looks to Komaeda expectantly after doing all that he can to wash the blood out on his own. 

A beat of silence passes between them, Komaeda fully processing the expectation placed upon him, but still his hands hover uselessly out in front of him. 

“You are welcome to help me,” Kamukura tells him, tilting his head. “This will go much faster if you do.” 

“Right!” Komaeda nods, spurred into motion and he sinks down in the water behind Kamukura. “Right.” 

It would be a lie to say it’s less intimidating like this. Sure, sitting takes away some of Kamukura’s inherent height. But nothing could ever detract from the way he seems to tower over everything regardless, his sharp red stare over his shoulder and the massive plume in front of Komaeda almost makes him seize up entirely again. But the burden of expectation wins out, and he finally reaches to start working water through Kamukura’s wings to rinse the remainder of the blood out. 

The feathers twitch under his initial touch, and even in the dim light, Komaeda can’t help but stare in awe at the way rivulets drip down the soft white fibers, carrying red as they go. Just being in Kamukura’s presence is dizzying, let alone being this close to him- Komaeda is lightheaded. He’s going to pass out. He’s- 

“You’re fine,” Kamukura murmurs. “Breathe.” 

Komaeda obediently sucks in a breath. 

Exhales. 

Inhales. 

Exhales. 

“Sorry.” Komaeda shakes his head, returns to his task. “And you’re sure this doesn’t hurt?” 

“I am sure,” Kamukura confirms. His feathers rustle a bit, as though in emphasis, a force against Komaeda’s clammy palms.   
He takes the prompt, running his fingers a bit more heavily through the layers- soft and downy and entirely pliant under his touch, Komaeda swallows thickly. He’s torn between tracing patterns with his eyes between the freckles that decorate Kamukura’s shoulder blades, or meeting the piercing gaze he feels so heavily on his face. 

In the end though, he can never disobey for long, and so he caves, finally looking up to make eye contact and shuddering visibly as the heated stare reaches into him and picks him apart so effortlessly. 

“You hesitate, even when given direct permission.”

“It’s just,” Komaeda trips over his words, withdrawing his hands and submerging them underwater as he folds them in his lap. “You’re so _divine_.” The word drips from his lips like honey. “I have no place touching you. It’s. It’s a blessing. One I don’t deserve.” 

“And you are the one that gets to determine who is worthy of the touch I choose to bestow?”

“No-“ Komaeda’s eyes widen, hands flying up in surrender, sending droplets spraying as he does so. A few land on Kamukura’s cheek as he parses, finally shifting from looking over his shoulder at Komaeda to facing him fully. “No. Of course not. Not at all. I will gratefully accept anything that Kamukura gives me.” 

“Even a touch that burns?” Kamukura mutters. 

Komaeda can recall it vividly. The first time skin met skin. He’d been given a proper warning, but still, the initial burn was startling. The hot searing of his flesh where Kamukura’s fingertips fell, leaving red prints in their wake even after only a few seconds. It was meant to be more of a deterrent than anything. An indulgence to sate his persistent, _human_ curiosity. Though it did not quell the fire, as Kamukura had intended- it had only caused it to burn brighter. 

A stinging sort of agony that Komaeda finds himself nodding readily to. 

“Yes,” his tone is breathless. “Even that. Especially that.” 

The chilled marble beneath him, frigid water prickling up goosebumps are a stark contrast to the way it burns- Kamukura’s hand outstretches in almost slow motion, and Komaeda is eager to lean into the touch, slotting his cheek there like it belongs. The gentle caress scorches, thumb trailing a line of red where Kamukura brushes it along the curve of his cupid’s bow, fresh tears spilling over at the sensation he’s smiling all the way through. 

He presses a kiss to the pad of Kamukura’s thumb, though the tears start to cloud and distort his vision when it becomes too much, and finally Kamukura is forced to pull away. 

“Thank you,” Komaeda wheezes, bringing his hand up to trace the angry red imprint he can feel slowly fading from his face. “You didn’t have to stop, though. It’s presumptuous of me to imply that you’d want to touch me for any length of time, of course, but I’m terribly selfish and-“ 

Kamukura silences him easy with a gentle, dismissive wave of the hand. It brings Komaeda’s lips tight together. 

“See?” Kamukura asks him, as though that exemplifies something. He must see the confusion written plain across Komaeda’s face, so he tips his head forward slightly as he clarifies. “You can be good when you want to be.” 

A shudder rips through him. 

“I…” Komaeda tests, dipping his toes into the water- metaphorically, of course, because in actuality they already _are_ , in fact they’re starting to go numb- and when Kamukura doesn’t cut him off, he clears his throat to continue. “I want to be good _all the time_. For you. If you’d let me prove-“ 

“I am already well aware of how deep your devotion runs.” Kamukura shifts his weight, and Komaeda’s eyes follow the lines of muscle as he moves, always held with the weight of freedom between his shoulder blades but somehow making the burden look effortless. “Perhaps, once I’m properly cleaned, I’ll let you show it.” 

“Of course,” Komaeda nods, in the same beat reminded of the fact that they’re sitting partly in a pool of blood. It’s not enough to muddy the whole fountain, but certainly enough to make it murky where they sit. He’s too far gone to care though now, tingling with the memory of Kamukura’s touch- the _promise_ of something more coming shortly thereafter. 

Not needing to be told twice, Komaeda starts up again, cupping water and bringing it up to rinse away the remaining blood, working his fingers through the ends of Kamukura’s hair to get the knots out, especially where blood had begun to crust over.   
There’s something so thrilling about it though, the way Kamukura has gotten him all worked up in his head, the mere prospect of getting to express his devotion- Komaeda doesn’t realize he’s begun to tremble again when Kamukura snaps him out of it, a finger tapping gently on his wrist just enough to sting, startling him out of his thoughts. 

“What?” Komaeda breathes, the thudding of his heartbeat too loud in his ears, too distracted by the plane of Kamukura’s exposed skin before him- normally covered, but he too had abandoned his clothes at the edge of the fountain. It feels so far away now. 

“That is enough,” Kamukura tells him, probably having to repeat himself. But a quick glance does confirm that they’ve absolved him mostly of the blood. 

His wings are sodden, weighed down by the water, and it occurs to Komaeda then, that Kamukura probably couldn’t fly away like this. Confined to the ground, if only for a little, walking the earth on two feet. Just like a human. 

But the cloying, dizziness of his presence as he leans closer reminds Komaeda that Kamukura is anything _but_ that. 

Nose pressing into the white curls atop Komaeda’s head, his hand finding purchase on Komaeda’s rib cage, Kamukura watches as his counterpart sucks in a desperate breath at the touch, arching into it despite the pain. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Komaeda keens like he’s been punched as the touch drags lower, stopping just below his navel before Kamukura retracts his hand entirely. 

And Komaeda is already pathetically hard. 

“Obedient,” Kamukura observes as Komaeda nods enthusiastically, reclining back, resting his weight on his elbows. 

There’s nobody around, but still, there’s something endlessly comforting about the way Kamukura’s wings encapsulate them as he moves to straddle Komaeda, hovering over him. Wrapped up in their own little world, Komaeda heaves out a shuddering breath as Kamukura’s lips meet the line of his jaw with a searing kiss.   
It only takes a few, trailing down the column of his neck, until Komaeda is shifting restlessly in the water, wiggling his hips the small amount that he can as he’s effectively pinned down. 

“Kamukura,” he gasps, letting his head fall backwards with a groan. “Please-“

“You want to prove your devotion, do you not?” Kamukura prompts. 

“I do-“ he lets out a low whine, words cut off by another kiss placed against his pulse. “How-“

Kamukura silences him again. A finger tracing a burning line across his collarbone.   
The tangible proof of someone so divine touching him, fingerprints pressed into his soul, Komaeda’s trembling grows so severe with every idle, teasing touch, water rippling around him and he knows he would fail desperately if he tried to hold himself still-

He can’t help but feel scrutinized. 

Under Kamukura’s stare- who is so clearly observing him, soaking up all of his reactions- Komaeda feels himself coming loose. Squirming, only a thin line of thread wrapped around him and slowly unraveling, he lets out a needy moan as Kamukura pulls away, retracting all touch.   
But there are still faint traces of the burns, quivering thighs, unabashed arousal as Komaeda looks up at someone so heavenly- 

Doesn’t realize how tightly he’s been wound up until Kamukura mutters “come,” and a blinding white light fills his vision as he snaps. 

His breath returns to him slowly, barely holding himself up from slumping into the water entirely as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, ebbing away until he pulls himself up, eyes still trained on Kamukura. 

“You’re so wonderful,” he sighs affectionately, reaching out with a limb that feels like jelly to encircle Kamukura’s wrist despite the burn. Brings it up to cup his cheek, hot and heady and a comforting sort of pain, the high he doesn’t want to come down from. “Thank you.” 

Kamukura says nothing. Just lets himself be held there, for a length of time that Komaeda is too fuzzy to guess accurately, only withdrawing when he finally decides they should get out of the fountain. 

Komaeda nods in agreement, heaving himself up onto wobbly legs. They make for even more clumsy, obnoxious steps as he drags his feet sloshing through the water, until they finally reach the edge, that he has to sit down on. Tugs his clothes back on with uncoordinated movements, tries not to feel rushed as Kamukura is already dressed and perching on the ledge of the fountain, waiting for Komaeda to finish- wings dripping a puddle onto the concrete behind him. 

“Thank you,” Komaeda repeats once he’s fully dressed and standing. He follows the line of Kamukura’s gaze and knows it’s resting on the red imprint of a hand that’s still decorating his cheek, placed there in the post haze and glow. 

It’s warm. Makes his giddy. 

And just like always, Kamukura does not acknowledge his thanks, simply allows Komaeda to fall in step beside him as they vacate the park- bound to the earth, at least until the water dries. 


End file.
